Martian Leather

Martian Leather

A foreword:

Please keep in mind that the Master-Slave relationship depicted here is not necessarily ideal, and the improvement of it is a relationship dynamic that is part of the story. This story should not be a template for anyone who is seeking to establish a Master/Slave relationship in earnest. It's just for fun, and should be taken as such.

Also please note that this is pretty story-driven and character-involved, so if you're looking for a quick pay off it might not be for you. However, there will be at least one -probably more - sexual encounter per chapter.

Thank you, and happy reading!
 

It was a bright and sunny afternoon on Mars above Paradigm Incorporated. It was entering into the late afternoon and Ezekiel Cross had one final tour to take care of before he could call it a day. He took a breath and downed the last of the water bottle he’d been favoring for the past hour, tossing it into the nearby recycling port in the wall. He straightened, adjusting his cufflinks, and walked out to the main lobby.

The initial hologram introduction program was finishing up as he strode up behind it. It stood about fifteen feet tall, the size of a small billboard, and automatically played on loop in the lobby’s vast, open space. However, it was keyed to recognize the resonance key emanated by guest security clearance badges, which triggered it to start over from the beginning whenever a new one came in range of the sensor, unless a group of five or more were already gathered. There were currently six people passively watching, or just listening, to the introduction rolling over the screen now, presented by his father’s upper torso and soft, firm voice.

In many company lobbies, the introduction and guide holograms had replaced personal tour guides like himself, and indeed most guests in the Paradigm headquarters lobby did end up fending for themselves with the help of a map superimposed on their ExtraLens and an incredibly polite humanoid program.

However, the six people in their lobby at this time had a net worth of over 2.2 trillion dollars. Ergo, Ezekiel was going to be giving them the grand tour, the sales pitch, and, ultimately, sucking whoever’s dick he had to in order to secure their investments.

Normally he was averse to being overdramatic, but it had been a long day and Ezekiel was tired.

“...the wealth of opportunities here at Paradigm, as presented by our very own Ezekiel Cross.”

Ezekiel stepped through the hologram, to the left of the scaled-up torso of his father, who held a miniature of the completely terraformed Mars in his hands. The hologram shivered and rippled as his passage disturbed it. It settled behind him, the images re-forming into a new backdrop when they detected his ID badge. The hologram now showed space, specifically, their little corner of it. The Sol Major solar system turned gently in the vacuum of stars over Ezekiel’s shoulders as he straightened his shoulders and took a breath.

“Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, and otherwise. It is an honor and a privilege to stand before you all on behalf of my father. The things he has accomplished here on Mars has established for our family a legacy of enormous opportunity and responsibility in the scientific frontiers. And today, it is my duty to share these opportunities with you all. Please, regard our tiny Mars…”

Ezekiel reached out to the small holographic solar system and pinched his thumb and forefinger against the floating screen, spreading them out to zoom in on the small red planet, the one that they, in Paradigm’s headquarters, now stood in. Beneath his deft movements, the rest of the solar system faded into the background, while Mars became the size of a golfball. With a flourish, Ezekiel pushed his black-gloved fingers a little ways into the floating, immaterial screen of light, captured the little red sphere, and then - pulled it free of the hologram.

There was a ripple as his small, but extraordinarily valuable audience expressed their surprise and delight. Hologram sciences had only succeeded in generating holos that could free themselves from their light pedestals recently, in select few circumstances, and it often still required a light pedestal source of some kind. The main holo’s light pedestal was embedded in the floor, between the cracks of strategically placed tiles, but the small red Mars replica Ezekiel now held in his fingertips hovered there with no apparent assistance. He turned, placing his body between it and the rest of the hologram, confirming the small, glowing red ball of light was indeed independent.

Ezekiel walked towards his audience with confident, sweeping strides, smiling his single-dimple grin, his groomed blonde hair tousled in the precise way that showed he, too, enjoyed a good time, but was still in control of every aspect of his appearance. He held the Mars out before him for his guests to behold, then, stopping a few feet in front of them, left it hanging in the air before them.

This was always a little bit of risk. The feat was impressive, enough that it could distract his investors from his pitch. But Ezekiel knew what he was doing.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” he asked, not really asking, as his audience beheld the little red globe. “Look at it there. All by itself.” Ezekiel snapped his fingers, and the Mars scaled up by ten, now big enough to show places of greenery on its surface. Ezekiel swirled his finger upright in the air and the mini-Mars began to turn, slowly, showing itself off. “Remarkable. Fifty years ago, our ancestors set out, not with an ambition, but a declaration - we would make Mars habitable. And now, here we are - “ Ezekiel stepped away from the globe, turning, arms spread, gesturing to not only the lobby, but in a grander sense, the whole of Mars. “Isn’t it something? Our ancestors took a barren, miserable, desert rock, and raised cities on it. Plowed fields. Filled rivers, and scaled mountains.” He turned back to face them again, and snapped his fingers. The sphere of Mars unraveled into a series of scenes, showing happy human Martian citizens, playing on beaches, plucking perfect, vivid vegetables from rich, loamy garden soil. One scene even showed people skiing.

Ezekiel smirked. Their attention was back on him again, as they sensed he was winding up.

“Overall, Mars has not even realized its full potential yet, but it can not be denied that we can only go up from here. My friends, Mars has reached what we professional terraformers like to call the Golden Hour. It has reached the point where its minimum necessities are being met and exceeded. So much so, in fact, that at this time next year, our appraisers expect to be seeing no less than tripling profits in agriculture, mineral extraction, and, of course, real estate development.”

There was a murmur, a good murmur. That was the murmur of people who were thinking, ah, that’s it, here comes the interesting stuff.

Ezekiel snapped his fingers again, and the playing images disappeared. He waved a hand, and the solar system behind him whirled, resetting to its original position. He walked back over to it and reached out again, zoomed in again, this time on another planet altogether. Saturn grew to five times the size of his head, its rings a dazzling array of icey splendor, its skies dotted with the faces of its moons.

The young man reached out again, repeating the same maneuver he’d used on Mars. This time, his selection was Titan, Saturn’s largest moon, and held it up for them to see. Again, he expanded the size of it, but this time, with a tap of his finger, Ezekiel sent the moon floating through the air towards the crowd while remaining where he stood.

“Paradigm has not been idle, during the past twenty or so years of prosperous growth. As the pioneers who lead the way in biodome technology during the founding years of Mars’s first colonies, we have been preparing our next step out into the stars just as we have prepared Mars to spread its wings and declare self-sufficiency. And as of today, I am proud to announce the first colony of Titan landed on Titan Pearl 1, the first biodome on Titan, at oh-six-hundred hours this morning.” Ezekiel waved a hand and Titan spun, its clouds parting to reveal a small gleaming dot on its surface. With a gesture Ezekiel summoned a small video clip that rose out towards the audience from the gleaming dot, a recording of the colony crew all standing inside the windows of Pearl 1 on one of her top decks, waving at the drone hovering outside as it had taken the video.

Ezekiel waved his hand a third time. The video clip disappeared, Titan lowered itself closer to the floor, and from it a series of low-poly rendered animations sprang up, depicting various stages of growth. Above these, a graph appeared, with an optimistic arrow declaring an uninterrupted rise towards success.

“Our experiences during development on Mars were, each and every one of them, invaluable lessons,” Ezekiel declared, “successes and mistakes alike. We have, here at Paradigm, tirelessly refined and streamlined our biodome program in the years since the Mars project achieved open-air, to the point that our predicted timeline for open-air inhabitation on Titan is no more than…” Ezekiel paused, letting the animations and graph fade out of the air. Only when he knew for a fact that his audience was holding their breath did he finish: “...ten years.”

There were cries of astonishment and some were of outright disbelief, of course, but Ezekiel was rolling now, he was tired, and he wanted this over and done with.

“In another five years, it’ll be ready for people, buildings, a whole new colony. Ladies and gentleman, Titan promises to be such a success, that not only are we offering you the chance to purchase real estate on the planets surface starting immediately after this demonstration, but we are offering you the opportunity to invest in any of our current and upcoming projects…” Ezekiel waved his hand. Titan disappeared, then reappeared on the screen behind him, along with a collection of five other moons and planets. The young man smiled, leaning forward on his toes, and spreading his arms in a welcoming gesture.

“...for only two per cent down.”

 

Ezekiel collapsed in his chair, yanked open his desk drawer, and reached for the bottle of gin with full intent. However, his fingers stopped short of the bottle by a few inches as his jaw clenched. His face expressed an inner turmoil of some kind. Finally he growled, and slammed the drawer shut, leaning forward over his desk and cradling his head in his hands.

Almost there. He was almost there. Another hour, a few reports to sign off on...he could do this. Ezekiel took a slow breath in through the nose, and then let it slip out through his lips. He ran his fingers through his hair, tousling it just a bit out of control and leaning back in his chair. It felt nice, sometimes, to let his hair sit out of place. His rich blue eyes slid closed, and Ezekiel enjoyed a moment’s respite.

A sharp rap on the door had him upright in a second, fingers expertly twitching his hair back into place.

“Yes?” he answered, trying not to let his irritation show through. The door opened, and the PA his mother had hired him slipped into his office.

“Mr. Cross,” she said, “I’m sorry to disturb you-”

“More signatures?” he asked, his head throbbing in protest.

“Yes. One of the investors changed his mind, last minute. ...I’m sorry, sir.”

Ezekiel regarded the young woman, probably more harshly than he needed to, trying to decide if she really was sorry. She was pretty, with modest, wavy brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Letting it loose would probably give her some allure, but from the way she avoided making eye contact, he doubted that was something she wanted. Her makeup was scant, just some mild foundation, a hint of mascara. She had the kind of face that didn’t really need much.

The young woman walked toward him hesitantly, the files in her arms, and laid them on his desk. She didn’t go out of her way to spill her tits over the mahogany, which was a blessing. The last thing Ezekiel was in the mood for was pretending to tastefully admire boobs.

“This is fucking great,” Ezekiel growled, aloud, without realizing the profanity had made it out with the other words. He glanced up and caught her flushed face as she stepped backwards, looking at him anxiously.

“Is there...anything I can do to help, Mr. Cross?” she asked, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Ezekiel looked up at her, thinking about all the things that could help him right now. There were precious few. His investor could help by not backing out of the contract at the literal last second with some bullshit excuse about his fortune teller’s tarot cards. His father could help by not being a monumental shitbag who would undoubtedly lose his absolute mind when one of his underlings reported to him that his imperfect son had, yet again, failed to ensnare all the investors. It didn’t matter that it was only one investor who’d backed out. It wasn’t all of them. Oh, and his mother could help by not being a suffocating control freak who seemed more concerned with the genetic husbandry of her own offspring than actually interacting with them as if they were people with thoughts and feelings.

“No, thank you,” he finally said. “Do you have anything else for me?”

He expected it to be a “no, sir” and be the end of it. That was all he could handle right now. But no, of course not.

“Actually, um…”

He’d already been sifting through the paperwork he needed to sign to annul the portion of the agreements that the investor had already agreed to before he’d retconned his money over some stupid superstition like a stupid, superstitious...asshole.

Ezekiel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was tired, he was running out of insults in the freedom of his own mind, and now his PA wanted something.

“Yes?” Ezekiel asked, struggling to conceal his tiredness.

“Well, I...I noticed the other day... “ the PA gestured to the stack of books on the end of his desk. “You...enjoy Pride and Prejudice?”

“Oh,” Ezekiel said, surprised. His mother had put that there, for some reason. It irritated him, but he’d learned a long time ago that he didn’t have any spaces anywhere wholly under his control. So he’d left it, and forgot about it. “I’m...it’s not-”

“It’s okay,” she said, lacing her fingers together and blushing. “People  make fun of me, too, for liking them. The books.”

Ezekiel stared blankly at her, chewing the words in his tired mind. She started to get nervous as she waited for his answer. Ezekiel finally gave up and shrugged.

“I...I don’t think you should care what other people think,” he said lamely. “There’s...I mean, books are great.” This was going terribly. He needed to get her out of here. Ezekiel glanced at the book that was prolonging his suffering, and an idea struck him. He got up, reaching across his desk, plucked the book from the edge of it, and hurried around the other side, holding the book out to the PA. “Here,” he said, “you can have it.”

“What? Oh, no, I-” she stepped back, waving her hands before her, but Ezekiel persisted. It was moving her towards the door, which was what he wanted.

“Please. Really. I insist. I - I don’t have time to really read anymore, so you should have it.” Take the book and go. Please.

“Oh - well, I’m sorry you don’t have time to read -” she was opening her hands to accept the book.

“Yeah, it’s awful. One of these days, though, you know-” Ezekiel shoved it into her hands, by which point he’d back her up to the door, which slid open when he gestured at the sensor. “Anyways, thank you, so much, I appreciate it. Have a good weekend.”

“Thank you!” Blushing, the PA ducked out.

Ezekiel collapsed back in his desk chair, his head throbbing harder.

He pulled the stack of documents in front of him, summoned his laser pen with a half-hearted flourish, and began to initial and sign.

“Get those results on my desk by Monday morning, Beckert,” Ezekiel instructed one of his managers as he adjusted his grip on his suitcase while waiting for the elevator. “I need those numbers ready to show our shareholders on Wednesday.” The man shot him a barely concealed dirty look. Beckert was a prick, and everyone knew it. He was one of the oldest second in commands at the company, and he’d flaunted it ever since Ezekiel had been visiting his father at work as a kid. He was a good target for Ezekiel to take out his frustrations on when he was in a bad mood.

“I’ll have to come in on the weekend for that, sir.”

“Very proactive of you, Beckert. Check with security at the front desk on your way out to make sure they grant you permissions to come in tomorrow and Sunday. Wouldn’t want you to set off the alarms. Again.”

So help me if you do, Ezekiel mentally threatened the man, not bothering to wish him a good weekend as he stepped through the opened elevator doors. The man would just hate him more for it anyway.

Leaving at the end of the work day was never so simple for Ezekiel as simply packing up his suitcase, getting on the elevator, and walking out through the groundfloor lobby. His father had entrusted the entire headquarters in his hands during the man’s two-year hiatus, and despite the occasional mistake here and there - like a single potential investor backing out at the last minute - Ezekiel was getting the growing awareness that his father’s hiatus may be less of a personal research trip to Titan, and more of a test run to see how Ezekiel could handle things. His father would die hunched over a microscope before he ever retired, but he did have a tendency to get bored with his projects(and children) once he felt he’d perfected them. Paradigm was practically its own animal now. Daniel Cross’s two year hiatus, relatively uneventful, had proved that. Whatever the man had his sights set on next, he’d be ready to move on past Paradigm soon, and when that happened Ezekiel had no doubt that the entire company would come to rest squarely on his shoulders.

 

Where it would sit for the rest of his life.

Ezekiel swallowed hard and stepped off the elevator onto floor 29, where he did a brisk walk-through of the IT department to check in with the department head, who had recently joined the team after Ezekiel had had to fire the last one of five years a week or so ago. The man had been discovered to be using the company’s premium internet connection to torrent porn. Disgraceful.

Satisfied the new department head was settling in well, Ezekiel next stopped on floor 21, to do a round in the microscience lab where they tested miniature ecosystems for terraforming projects. This was mostly just habit as he’d done it with his father growing up. His father always had something to say or an observation to make about the activity visible in the small, steamed-up glass globes of varying sizes and a-bustle with various simple life forms. Ezekiel wasn’t much in the way of a scientist, but there was a small bit of peace he found in watching tiny organisms squirm in the dirt of their wholly encased homes, reliant on nothing, safe from everything.

Finally he stepped off on floor 7 to check in with security. For his own peace of mind, Ezekiel liked to be assured, personally, that all was well before he left. Especially if that idiot Beckert was going to do something stupid over the weekend, which Ezekiel had a feeling he might.

At last, Ezekiel made it to the lobby and stepped out into the cool, fresh air of the Martian night. Stars twinkled in the blue-black velvet overhead, and at this time of year Earth was a vividly shining star in the red planet’s sky. The view from his penthouse would be beautiful tonight. Ezekiel couldn’t wait to get home, kick back, and -

“Ezekiel! Hey, Cross!”

He hesitated, wondering if he should just summon his car, keep walking, and pretend he hadn’t heard. But it was too late - the footsteps closed in behind him and a hand clapped him on the shoulder. Ezekiel resisted the urge to flinch away, though he went rigid as he anticipated how this was about to change the course of his evening.

“Hey, Allens,” he said, twisting to nod at one of his employees over his shoulder. Though he was technically the man’s boss, Ezekiel had only just been promoted by his father a few months ago, and Daniel Cross had always encouraged his employees to treat his son as an equal when he had, in fact, been an equal. Now, the familiarity was beginning to rankle as Ezekiel tried more and more to shift out of the after-work frat party lifestyle, but Allens was older than him and carried a natural sort of confident authority, and Ezekiel wasn’t really sure what to do about it.

“Drinks on you tonight, eh?” Allens said, with a friendly punch to the shoulder. Ezekiel, again, quelled a flinch of actual pain. He sometimes suspected Allens punched just hard enough on purpose. Ezekiel fought the urge to squirm out of the larger, older man’s grip on his shoulder and took a breath, stepping smoothly away from the man and adjusting his tie.

“Actually, I’m afraid I-”

“There he is!”

And with that, Ezekiel’s heart sank. Allens’s sidekick, Miller, was along for the ride, because of course he was, and somehow despite it being less than thirty minutes past five o’clock he’d already found a pretty young someone to hang off his arm, dressed in glittering red. Miller came up on the other side Ezekiel and also clapped him on the back, almost causing the younger man to stumble.

“Allens told us we’re all headed to Bronze Chain for quarter-end drinks!” Miller boomed in his domineering voice.

“Did he, now,” Ezekiel said with a wooden smile.

“Well it was a great one wasn’t it?” Allens pointed out. Somehow, at some point, Ezekiel had been guided along by the two of them to the near street corner on the other side of the fountain in Paradigm Square. Allens raised his hand and snapped his fingers twice, summoning an autocab. After a few moments, a honk answered twice in the distance, confirming it was en route.

“Yes,” Ezekiel said, sagging in defeat. “The quarter was a great one.” As he said it out loud, though, it actually started to make him feel a bit better. It had been a great quarter. He should celebrate a little. If not for himself, then at least for morale. His father would have, and Ezekiel knew for a fact that his father only drank when courtesy demanded. He’d inherited his hatred of the foul-tasting swill from the man. It was probably the only thing they had in common.

They piled into the cab together, and though Ezekiel hated being sandwiched between Allens and Miller, he made the best of it, joining in on their raucous laughter and raunchy sense of humor as best as he could, as convincingly as he could.

 

The bar was like any other bar on Mars or Earth, but this one was for rich people, which meant everything was glass(made from premier Martian sand), black metal, and sported bizarre, artistic architecture. Ezekiel was vaguely aware of geometric shapes spiderwebbing across the high ceilings, dangling glowing strings of neon lights that flickered at intervals.

The waitstaff was beautiful, of course, and skimpily dressed, which was doubtlessly why Allens liked this place so much. Ezekiel was dreading the first shot of tequila as a lovely young woman with barely contained breasts bent unnecessarily far over to pour the golden liquid into his shot glass. He held it up to the light, admiring the laser-etched engraving that depicted Ophiucus, the non-zodiac constellation. Many places that chose to celebrate the founding of Mars’s first dome mistakenly thought it had happened while Mars had been circulating through Sagittarius, but it was actually Ophiucus, the Serpent Bearer. The son of the man who had founded that first dome appreciated the bar’s small gesture for its accuracy.

Ezekiel brought the shot glass to his lips, but before he could take it, there was a sudden outcry from the rest of the table.

“Speech!” Miller demanded, and the others at the table began to agree rowdily.
“Speech! Speech! Speech!”

Ezekiel sighed, desperately wishing he could fire the man for prolonging his headache. Instead, he only shook his head.

“I don’t think-”

“Ahh, come on, kid,” Allens chimed in, the man’s grinning face framed by the two women coiled on the table’s lounge seats on either side of him. “We worked hard. Let’s hear what you have to say about it.”

His jaw clenching, Ezekiel pasted on a white smile that he turned on the rest of the coworkers at the table that Allens and Miller had invited along. They were looking at him expectantly. With a deep breath, Ezekiel made a show of standing up, brushing off his torso and straightening his jacket and tie. He raised his shot glass, and the table fell quiet.

“I’ve heard enough of my own voice for a while. Fantastic job, everyone! Now let’s get drunk!”

It was, apparently, exactly the right choice of words, because they were met by whooping and hollering and, at last, the table dissolved into alcoholic indulgence.

Ezekiel sat back down and began the task of getting as drunk as he could as fast as he could. Time rolled over him in a hazy blur. Allens and Miller drifted down the lounge seats to push their women at him, encouraging, but the thought of tangling in sweaty flesh at the moment made the young man feel sick. He didn’t want any of this - this life of sex, drugs, alcohol, then powering through a murderous hangover the next day just to be barely pain-free by lunch, launch straight into intensive board meetings after, and then do it all again the next evening.

It had been weighing on him more and more lately, and had reflected in how he treated his employees. Ezekiel knew this, but all the same, he couldn’t stop. He had no way of stopping. This was his life. It had been decided for him - a long time ago. And he was suffocating.

Just when Ezekiel was about to try and fabricate some excuse to leave, hoping he’d been part of the revelry long enough, his phone buzzed.

Brows furrowing in confusion - his mother was a strict, in-bed-by-ten kind of woman, he and his siblings weren’t on speaking terms this year, and all of his “friends” were right here. Ezekiel patted his hip, feeling for the slender rod of metal.

Then it buzzed again, and Ezekiel stiffened. It was coming from his chest pocket. From his...personal phone.

Ezekiel slipped a hand into his inner jacket pocket and tapped the edge of a different slender metal tube. The end of the tube where he tapped with his fingertip blinked red, then green as it confirmed his fingerprint. A small one-sided hologram of his phone screen flickered to life. His breath caught in his throat, Ezekiel glimpsed the text he’d received from an instant messenger.

[You have 30 seconds, slave. Do not make me wait.]

A ripple of heat and anticipation washed over Ezekiel. The tension in his shoulders eased, the throbbing pressure of his headache receded. Quickly, he stood, extricating himself from the table, and slipped out before anyone noticed his absence.

It took him maybe five seconds to locate the bathroom, as this hangout was Allens’s, not his. Ezekiel fought to keep from dead-on running to the door with the simple toilet symbol on it, but he did lengthen his strides and make it only a few more seconds.

Thankfully, the restroom was empty but for him, and Ezekiel rushed into the first stall. His hands clammy with excitement, he fumbled the cell out of his pocket, just in time to see the messenger app’s normally white screen flip over to a black one. The device began vibrating again as a video call rang him, the red and green accept/decline buttons appearing.

Ezekiel tapped the accept button as quickly as possible, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Finally.”

Ezekiel’s breath stuttered and he felt a warmth overtaking the excited butterflies in his stomach.

“On your knees.”

“...Yes, Master,” he said, crouching and laying the phone face-up on the bathroom floor. He tapped the holo-cast button on the video chat screen and his master’s masked face sprang up into the air before him, their displeased glower a welcome sight. The voice they used was computer-generated, and their mask and leather gear hid any clues to their sex. The mask was black leather with gold thread, sculpted into the shape of a snarling dog snout, the only visible part of Master’s face the penetrating black eyes visible through the eyeholes. They wore a hood over top of it, and a leather mantle covered their neck and shoulders, which was all he could see from the hologram.

Ezekiel knelt, tucking his feet neatly under his buttocks, laying his hands palm-down on his knees. His palms were already getting sweaty from excitement. The cloth of his trousers grew hot under his touch.

“Recite it to me, and undress.”

“I am your secret, though you are not mine to keep. I am your pet, though I am one of many.” Ezekiel’s hands shook as he slid his jacket off, unbuttoned his shirt, undid his belt. “You are my everything, though I am…” Ezekiel’s mouth dried with exhilaration as he uttered the word: “...insignificant.”

He had removed his upper clothes; now he waited.

“...show me.”

Ezekiel’s heart raced. He stood, and dropped his trousers to the floor in one fluid motion.

His groin was encased in a pair of red lace panties, draping with small pearl beads. The pearl beads were a sign of his proven loyalty to his master, that he only touched himself for them, indulged in play for them, only thought sexually about them. He’d started with plain black panties. Next up the tier were black with beads, then red, then red with beads, and finally - white. White meant his master would finally fuck him in person. If things went that far. A year ago Ezekiel wouldn’t have even imagined he’d be rushing to a bathroom stall at the command of text on a screen. But things were different now.

“Show me my property.”

The words made said property ache with excitement. Ezekiel caught his breath and took hold of the panties at his hips, drawing them down to his thighs. This revealed thigh-high stockings affixed to the panties via garter belt, a sheer maroon that highlighted the vivid red panties. Ezekiel stepped out of his shoes and draped his pants over the grab bar bolted to the stall wall. Then he stood, hands held behind his back, body arched, displaying himself. His master grunted in approval at the sight of Ezekiel’s cock.

It was already throbbing, though not quite erect. The cock-corset his master had mailed to him a year ago was in place, just tight enough to prevent him from climaxing, but comfortable enough he could - and did - wear it all the time. The ring was a band of soft leather, laced up the bottom of the shaft, and that too was red, with white ribbon lacing.

“When was the last time you touched yourself?”

“The last time my master instructed.”

“When was the last time you desired your master?”

Ezekiel gulped.

“Always.”

His master chuckled, like always. They loved it when he answered like that.

“Good boy.” His cock twitched eagerly at the praise, and Ezekiel whimpered softly. “You have earned your reward.”

Ezekiel’s cock lurched into an erection and he began to pant.

“Turn around.”

He did so, and bent over, spreading his ass cheeks for the hologram.

“Excellent. I see your ass beads have not been disturbed since they were inserted.”

“N-no Master,” Ezekiel whispered eagerly. The master sighed, and Ezekiel tensed. Was something wrong?

“If only my other pets could be as obedient and reliable as you. You’ve progressed faster than any pet I’ve ever owned.”

Ezekiel trembled in excitement at the words, then his master’s voice rang in his ear with a sharp warning.

“Do not let that go to your head.” Ezekiel swallowed hard.

“N-no Master. Never.”

“Good. Now let’s begin. Assume the position.”

Ezekiel turned back to face the hologram and raised one foot to rest on the toilet. His master normally preferred him entirely naked, but in public places always instructed him to keep the stockings on to protect his feet from bacteria. Master always thought of such little details. Master took such good care of him.

Ezekiel angled his body so Master could clearly see not only his cock, eager and straining in the custom made corset, but his asshole as well, with the anal bead plug firmly in place.

“Excellent conformation, my pet. Now, take your cock in your hand.”

Ezekiel’s heart hammered in his chest as he wrapped his hand around his cock.

“And now, take hold of the plug tab.” Ezekiel did so, gripping the silicone tab that stuck out a half inch from the base of the bead plug. “Twist it.” Ezekiel gasped and swallowed, then adjusted his grip on the plug tab and obeyed. He moaned as the stiff bead chain moved inside of him for the first time in a week. His body had settled comfortably around it, and the protein shake diet master had kept him on had been more than enough to sustain him at a healthy level. Master had insisted on providing the protein shakes themself, despite Ezekiel being more than financially capable. They were high-grade, used by astronauts, and expensive. But then, an important part of his relationship with his master was that Ezekiel had no clues to their identity.They could hardly afford to admit anything about their financial situation.

“Harder.”

Ezekiel whimpered and began to twist the beads inside of him more aggressively. His hand twitched on his cock.

“Did I see you attempting to stroke your shaft?”

“N-no Master!” Ezekiel gasped. “No, I promise!”

“Good. You will not move your hand until I say so.”

Ezekiel bit his lip with the effort of just placidly holding his erection in hand while he continued to stir the beads inside of him.

“M-master…” he moaned, his legs beginning to shake.

“Yes, my slave?”

“I-I...my insides...they feel…”

“Tell me.”

“They feel like...they’re getting stirred up…” Ezekiel broke off and panted, the warmth in his stomach overtaking his thighs and groin.

“Good. It will take a long time to prepare you to endure my cock. Stimulating your boy-cunt is only the beginning.”

Ezekiel whimpered and arched his body at the derogatory term for his asshole.

“M-Master...please…”

“Yes, my slave?”

“Please...am I...does this...please you?”

“Yes. You’re doing very well. Tighten your hand on your cock.”

Ezekiel did so, the breath catching in his throat.

“Now stroke yourself.”

“Ye-Yes,” Ezekiel exclaimed, and began to do so, stroking himself as he twisted the beads inside of his asshole. “Whatever...pleases...Master…”

“Play with the tip of your cock for me.”

Ezekiel groaned and began to fondle his tip with his fingertips, gently squeezing and probing at the opening of it, teasing himself.

“Do you want to come, slave?”

“Oh- oh...Master...Mmm, yes…”

“You’ll have to prove to me that you deserve it. Pull out three of your beads. Keep stroking while you do.”

“Ye-Yes Mas...ter…” Ezekiel found it difficult to keep both hands moving as both tasks demanded attention. He stroked himself slowly as he tightened his grip on the plug tab and began to pull, carefully, carefully, and one of the beads popped free of him quite suddenly.

Aware that he was in a public bathroom, Ezekiel clapped a hand over his mouth to quell his cry of pleasure. The moment passed, and he immediately replaced his hand on his cock, shaking as he realized what he’d done.

“Slave.”

“Y-Yes Master.”

“You disobeyed me.”

“Master, I - “

The hologram disappeared as the caller hung up.

Ezekiel swore quite loudly, slamming his fist into the wall of the bathroom stall. Trembling, he roughly shoved the bead plug back inside of him, jammed his erection down inside his panties, and yanked his clothes back on.

He crouched to pick up his phone, but found himself unable to stand up right away. He stayed, huddled over his phone, and against his better judgment, he began frantically typing.

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